


meet me in the afterglow

by elizaham8957



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Celebrity AU, F/M, Fluff, Is this inspired by the emmys? Most definitely, Modern AU, R Plus L Does Not Equal J
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 17:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21001559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: “Let’s dance,” she says, offering her hand, Jon’s eyebrows raising.“Come on, Jon,” she says, perching one hand on her hip, smiling enticingly. “We’ve spent the entire night telling all the reporters the rumors are garbage and that the two of us are just friends. There aren’t any paps in here. I’m not going to ignore my best friend because some tabloids want to sell more copies of their trashy magazines.”She knows he can’t help but give in when she pouts just so, and she’s right, once again, Jon taking her hand and allowing her to lead him to the dance floor.





	meet me in the afterglow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my_inked_asterism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_inked_asterism/gifts).

> Sabrina, writing something that ISN'T Where the Wild Things Are? It's more likely than you think! 
> 
> I know it's Jonerys AU month, but it's ALSO my wonderful, talented, incredible friend and beta, Giulia's, birthday today!! So this one is for you, hon. I hope my offering of silly mindless fluff inspired by Emilia's killer award show looks makes your special day a little brighter :) 
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and Giulia, happy birthday love!!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/48885746017/in/dateposted-public/)

Even in the dim lights of the club, the gold of the two statues on the table next to her still shines brightly. 

They’ve been dancing for what seems like hours now— Dany’s feet are beginning to  _ really  _ hurt in her six inch heels— but the euphoria of the night keeps her going, jumping in time to the music with Missandei. 

She still can’t really believe she’s here. Two years ago, she had been a mostly unknown actress with a few minor parts on her resume, and now she’s got not one, but  _ two  _ major awards with her name engraved on them. 

She’d said as much in her acceptance speech, trying not to completely lose it as she babbled on about how grateful she was to the casting director for taking a chance on her and handing her the role of a lifetime. Her costars assured her afterwards she sounded completely eloquent and very humbled, but she’s still not entirely sure she believes them. Her speech was a far cry from the powerful, commanding ones that her character gave in the film. 

She’d poured her heart and soul into that role, and it had paid off. Dany’s not entirely sure that’s hit her yet. Ever since she had gone on press tour for  _ Satanic Majesty,  _ discussing the film and her starring part in it on what seemed to be every major news show in the country, everything has felt a bit like a dream. Tonight has just been the last of that— walking up onstage to accept an award first for best actress, and then for best film, seems too good to be true. At the end of the night, she’s going to go home and take off this beautiful dress, and place the two golden statues she’d been handed on her kitchen table. She’s still not reasonably convinced that they’ll truly still be there in the morning when she wakes up. 

It’s past midnight at this point, but the after party is still going strong, celebrities that Dany has idolized since she was a girl mixed throughout the crowd with other up-and-coming stars like herself. Her other castmates are somewhere here in the throng as well— Missandei and she have been joined at the hip all night, obviously, but she did see Grey and Jorah earlier, and the directors— but where is— 

“Hey,” she hears behind her, turning to come face to face with her costar, a shiver running through her at the low sound of his northern accent as he grins at her. Jon places his award next to hers on the table, taking a sip of the drink in his other hand as Missandei waves hello brightly. His eyes glitter in the dance floor lights, almost as dark as his hair, messy curls artfully styled and down around his face. She had teased him about his all black ensemble when they’d both taken to the carpet, although he’d given her a skeptical look in return, surveying her black dress. 

“It’s always been my color,” he’d told her with one of those little teasing smirks that she’d grown so fond of over the past two years, and she had just laughed. 

“Hi,” Dany responds, unable to help herself from smiling at the sight of their awards next to each other on the table. Their joint speech for best film had been much easier to give than her one for best actress, simply because Jon had been right next to her up on the stage. 

“Where have you been?” she asks, taking a sip of her own almost-empty drink. 

“Got flagged down by a group of people who wanted to congratulate me on the film,” he says, as Missandei turns back to the dance floor. He shakes his head a little, like he’s still processing it. She knows that feeling well. All night people have been coming up to her, praising her performance, wanting to tell her how much they loved the film, and it’s been something else entirely. Jon understands, she knows. Perhaps better than anyone. Both of them had been relatively unknown until this film had come and changed everything. 

Maybe that’s why she and Jon had become such fast friends on the set. It had been a taxing, emotionally grueling role, and while Dany had loved every second of it, it had been nothing like anything she had ever done before. The same was true for Jon. That mutual understanding between them, the shared experience, had brought them remarkably close together while filming. Even after they’d wrapped, they’d stayed in touch. And then when they both embarked on the film’s press tour, it had been like no time had passed in between at all. 

Dany can’t even describe how lucky she feels to have Jon’s friendship. It had been grounding, during the filming process, to have someone understand her so completely. The same goes for him, he’s assured her multiple times. 

“It feel real yet?” Jon asks, nodding towards her awards. She laughs, finishing off her drink. 

“No, not at all.” She’s not sure it’ll ever feel real, truly. “I’m still waiting for someone to come snatch them back, and tell me there was a mistake.” 

“Not likely,” Jon tells her, his brow furrowing. “You deserve that award. You were bloody brilliant in that role, Dany.” 

Her heart flutters at the conviction in his voice, the surety of his words. The critics can praise her all they want, but somehow hearing those words from her best friend is much better. 

“Let’s dance,” she says, offering her hand, Jon’s eyebrows raising. 

“Come on, Jon,” she says, perching one hand on her hip, smiling enticingly. “We’ve spent the entire night telling all the reporters the rumors are garbage and that the two of us are just friends. There aren’t any paps in here. I’m not going to ignore my best friend because some tabloids want to sell more copies of their trashy magazines.” 

She knows he can’t help but give in when she pouts just so, and she’s right, once again, Jon taking her hand and allowing her to lead him to the dance floor. 

She can see his concerns, really. Since the movie came out, they’ve been plastered across the front of every magazine; they can’t even go out to run errands together without being accused of dating. The only questions Dany had been asked in the press line tonight that weren’t related to the film were about the rumors swirling about her and Jon. But the two of them had assured everyone— while anyone would be lucky to be with either of them, they really are just good friends, and that’s all it is. 

Dany finds that’s the thing she hates most about the sudden fame. In this industry, no one takes anything at face value, and the paparazzi will sell whatever they can to make a quick buck. She has no issue baring it all on camera, showing millions of people any range of emotions when she’s on the screen, but when it comes to her personal life— sometimes the lack of privacy makes her feel like an animal locked in a cage.

She’s learning to get used to it, though, and it’s  _ worth  _ it, every second, to get to portray characters like hers in  _ Satanic Majesty.  _ Eventually she knows she’ll be able to tune it all out. But for now, she’ll dance with Jon, and deal with any viral videos that claim this  _ must  _ mean they’re dating in the morning. 

They dance forever, it seems, the alcohol making them move more freely, even though Dany’s feet are still in pain. After a certain amount of whiskey, she even gets Jon to join her in a rendition of “Push It,” much to the crowd’s delight. She just tips her head back and laughs afterwards, system still flooded with adrenaline and high on the happy shine of Jon’s dark eyes. 

“It’s getting late,” Jon finally whispers in her ear, her arms looped around his neck as they sway back and forth to a slow song. She nods into his shoulder, pulling back so she can see his eyes. 

“You going to get going?” she asks, and Jon makes a face. 

“Dunno. Are you stayin’ much longer?” 

“Probably not,” she says with a shrug. Missandei and Grey had left a little while ago, as had Jorah. The only person still here that she really knows is Jon. 

“I’ll head out, then,” he says, pulling his phone from his tuxedo pocket as they disentangle themselves. “Let me know when you get home, alright?” 

“Of course,” she says, leading the way back to their table from earlier, handing him his golden statue. “I’ll see you soon.” 

“Aye,” he says, ducking down to kiss her chastely on the cheek. And then he’s gone, disappeared back into the crowd. 

Dany waits a few minutes before calling a car for herself, saying goodbye to the few people left here she somewhat knows. Her driver gives her a curious look as she climbs in the backseat, juggling her two shiny awards. She leans back against the leather upholstery, relief finally sinking in at being off her feet, her mind counting down the minutes until she can take off her beautiful, yet extremely difficult to breathe in, gown. 

She lets herself into her large apartment and immediately strips off her shoes; leaving them in the foyer, she pads barefoot to the kitchen table, leaving her awards on it. She takes another moment to study them, the way they gleam in the low light from above the stove, but then she hears it— a cough, coming from the sitting room. 

“Hello?” she calls hesitantly, clutch bag still in hand as she walks to the sitting room. Still, the room appears empty, nothing but the bright lights of the city below flooding the large glass windows illuminating the space. 

And then she feels arms circle around her, the source of the cough finally revealed. 

“How did you beat me here?” she asks, giving into Jon’s touch, nuzzling against his jaw as his arms pull her in close. “You didn’t leave  _ that  _ much before me.” 

“Guess my drivers were faster,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet in her ear, lips pressing a warm kiss to the side of her head. He’d gone to his place first, then taken a different car to Dany’s home, just in case any paps tried to follow him back from the party. 

“I was well motivated, too,” Jon says, hands running down her sides. “Seein’ you in this dress all night and not being able to  _ really  _ touch you has been torturous.” 

“I know how you feel,” she hums, turning in his arms, reaching up to sink her fingers into his silky curls. “I’ve been dying to do that all night.” 

Jon smiles at her, just a little, his lips quirking up to the side in that subtle way that she loves. And she can’t take it anymore, rising up on her sore toes to bring his lips to hers. 

Jon sighs the moment she kisses him, hands slipping lower to hold her to him, tongue teasing at her mouth. He tastes like whiskey and mint, his cologne intoxicating, Dany gasping quietly as his hands grab at her arse, bunching up the dress. 

“Gods above, Dany,” he murmurs into her mouth, before his head dips to trace kisses down her chest, where the neckline of her dress leaves plenty of creamy skin revealed to him. She shivers at the feeling of his lips against her cleavage, beard tickling the sensitive skin between her breasts, her fingers tangling in his hair. 

“When I was lying to all those reporters, telling them that we aren’t actually together,” she mumbles, sighing breathlity at Jon’s ministrations, “this is all I could think about.” 

“Aye, me as well,” he admits, leaning up so he can kiss her properly again. His brow furrows slightly as they pull away, foreheads pressed together. “You still sure you don’t want to tell anybody? Because I’ll do whatever you want, love. You know that.” 

“I know,” she says, nudging his nose with hers. “I just don’t feel like it’s anyone else’s business. Just ours, and our family and friends.” 

“It isn’t,” he says. “Those bloody paps can rot in the seven hells. I don’t want to explain or share this with people who don’t know us.” He pauses, smiling a little. “Not yet, anyways.” 

His fingers card through her hair. “I miss when it was long,” he admits, her locks now just brushing her shoulders. She closes her eyes, smiling as she remembers the long waves she’d had during filming, the way Jon would play with the moonbeam curls as they’d laid tangled together in one of their trailers. 

“It’ll grow back,” she reassures him. His thumbs rub at her sides again, brushing against the boning of her dress’s bodice. 

“I know,” he says, leaning in to kiss her again, long and soft and sweet. 

“Jon,” she murmurs against his lips, and he hums in response, drawing back. “If you don’t mind, I’d really like to get this dress off,” she admits. “It’s beginning to become hard to breathe in.” 

He smiles at her wickedly, his brown eyes shining brighter than the golden trophies on her kitchen table. “That’s convenient,” he says, leaning in to whisper in her ear, his beard scraping her neck as he nips playfully at her earlobe. “Because I’ve been dreamin’ of taking that dress off you all night.” 

She laughs, leaning into his touch, reveling in the warmth of his kisses against her neck. “Have you now?” she asks, and he hums into her skin, fingers already reaching for the zip at the back. 

“Aye,” he admits, and her breath catches as he tugs the zipper down, his fingers against her spine. She kisses him again, warmth flooding her as he smiles against her lips, hands mapping her skin and making flames shoot through her body in the way that only Jon’s touch can. 

She giggles into his mouth as they stumble towards her bedroom, any thought of the awards she had won tonight pushed far from her mind. 

Yes, Dany thinks. Some things are just better off kept to themselves. 


End file.
